


Three Brothers Thrice More

by DarkInuFan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death's a vengeful Bastard, Reincarnation, Slice of Life, The Deathly Hallows, The Tale of the Three Brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkInuFan/pseuds/DarkInuFan
Summary: Looking up, Molly gestured, offering to get one of the children's books off the shelf, to which Harry shook his head. Closing his eyes, Harry took a moment to think before opening his mouth. “Long, long ago (as all stories like this should start), before history books were written and stories only existed in the minds and words, it was the time of wild magic and wands were only a young thing, not widely known or used in anything but the most important of cases.





	Three Brothers Thrice More

“Hey, now, it's time to sleep.” Harry murmured, pressing his cheek close to the fussy infant's technicolor hair, patting the child's back in a soothing manner. The child had been fed, cleaned and changed, and now, it was time for iridecent eyes to close so that emerald could soon follow.

“Here now, Harry, I can take him if you want.” Molly Weasley held out her arms, eager to hold who had quickly become just as much a surrogate firstborn grandchild as his godfather had become 'just another one of her boys'.

“No, it's alright Mrs. Weasley,” Harry spoke with a small smile, keeping his tone soft and light as he got comfortable in the oversized recliner that had somehow become 'his' in the past few months. “I've got it.”

“Well, if you're sure.” Molly spoke with a hint of uncertainty, her hands pressing themselves into her hips in a familiar gesture. “And how many times have I told you, you can call me Mum, goodness knows everyone else here does! Or at the very least you can call me Molly!” It was an argument that they'd been quietly having off and on ever since Harry was twelve, and a comfortable one at that.

Hiding a small smile as he crossed his legs and settled Teddy so that he was ensconsed in the nest his legs made, his head turned so that his cherubic cheek was resting on Harry's thigh. It wasn't the normal position (according to Molly), but both godfather and godson found it oddly comfortable. “Yes, Mrs. Weasley.” He would have agreed long ago to accede to Molly's wishes, but the argument was their own personal code of 'I love you'. Taking her cue from his obstinate words and teasing tone, Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes with the soft smile she had solely for her stolen child. 'Stolen' because (despite her disapproval at the time) that is how the boy had firmly become ensconced into her life.

“Just tell me if you need anything, dear. Merlin save you if you need to get up and move anytime soon!” Turning to take her own chair by her knitting bag, Harry stopped her by a low request.

“Actually… May I have a glass of water before you sit down? If it's not too much to ask, that is.”

“Nonsense.” Molly waved off, gliding off to the kitchen to fetch him a glass. It was always small requests like this that Harry would ask of her, and always so politely too, as if he always assumed that he would be turned down. “I'll be right back. Would you like tea instead, and a snack?” She wasn't surprised when he shook his head, insisting that 'water will be just fine, thank you very much'. She knew that he would come around eventually. Eventually he would discover for himself that, no matter what happened, he would be always welcomed at the Burrow with open arms. That he was here as much as he was already was a minor miracle in itself that she had Teddy and her blood children to thank. At least once a week, they took turns hunting down the elusive boy and dragged him home (sometimes quite by force) for a good home cooked meal. And then there were the many incidents of 'Teddy's firsts' that always sent Harry into a minor panic and running to the closest 'Mom' he could find with a million and a half questions. Currently, it was a minor fever that Molly was inclined to believe was the precursor to a tooth.

Coming out of the kitchen, Molly made sure to grab a tea plate of brownies for Harry to enjoy. He may not have asked for them, but he would notice and enjoy them eventually through the evening. She had tried (quite a few times) to ask things like his favorite foods and colors and other little nonsensical pieces of trivia that she knew about all her children, but he was stubborn to a fault in that way. So, she settled in for doing what she had to do with all her children: wait, observe and give them choices. Her current project was finding out his favorite puddings. While he could stand to gain a stone or two, he treated most of her attempts with an equal amount of wary gratitude. “Ah, thank you.” Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as she set the dishes down within his easy reach. His hand immediately reached for the glass of water, but detoured at the last moment to break off a miniscule corner of one of the brownies an popped it in his mouth with a small hum. Turning, Molly hid a smile of success behind the movement of grabbing her knitting. It was a small thing, but at least it was a start. Now, if he finished off the plate, that would be a minor miracle in itself. She made a mental note to make brownies more often in the future as she set up her needles.

“Is Mr. Weasley working late?” Harry asked a few minutes later, trying to sneak another bite of brownie while she was 'distracted'. No matter how many times she had told him he was free to eat as much as he wanted, Harry tried his damndest to never get caught enjoying himself. Some habits were harder to break, was all that she could assume there. Those horrid muggles. Well, Harry was hers now and if she never heard the name 'Dursley' again, it would be too soon.

“Hmm…? Oh, yes, I'm afraid so. I believe Author said something about a series of self-locking doors down in Bath.” It was quiet, that was for sure, with only Molly and the two boys currently in the house. With Ginny and Ron up at Hogwarts and the rest of the boys still at work, it was a quiet that rarely was so complete.

Nodding with understanding, Harry turned his attention back down to his godson. While drawing circles on the infant's back was it's own kind of sleep magic, Teddy was putting up quite the silent resistance. One heavy eye watching Harry's every movement. “Close you eyes, Teddy-bear.” Harry teased, gently brushing his hand over the boy's face. It worked only for as long as it took for a slow blink. In an instant of infant dexterity, Teddy managed to snag one of Harry's fingers, drawing his entire hand close enough to lethargically chew on. Harry reacted just far enough to give a fond, if not slightly exasperated, sigh and make a note to wash baby-slime off of his hand before it dried. “Ok, be that way then. I guess I'll just have to tell you a story and see how that works.”

Looking up, Molly gestured, offering to get one of the children's books off the shelf, to which Harry shook his head without moving either of his hands. Closing his eyes, Harry took a moment to think before opening his mouth.

> “Long, long ago (as all stories like this should start), before history books were written and stories only existed in the minds and words, it was the time of wild magic and wands were only a young thing, not widely known or used in anything but the most important of cases. This was a time when we were all just human, with no difference between those with and those without magic. Where skills were all different and one was never jealous of the other. Where there was no difference between wild and civilized but for a matter of opinion and the Hidden Things walked around freely and in the open. Not to say that there weren't mysteries, oh no, there were things to be discovered everywhere, if only you knew where to look.
> 
> Now, one day there were three brothers traveling together along a road. Whether they were brothers of blood or of soul, we don't know, for that has been lost to time. In the half-light they traveled, eager to be to their destination, for why else would they travel when they knew that the Hidden Things liked to travel too? Wary they were as they traveled down the road, dreaming of a good meal and a comfortable bed and shelter in the next town and soon they came to a river, swollen with winter thaw and spring rain and angry enough to threaten the next unfortunate soul foolish enough to cross its' path.
> 
> 'We cannot stop here.' the first brother stated, eying the malevolent river. 'The river could swell in the night, taking us and our lives with it.'
> 
> 'But we cannot continue either.' the second brother replied, staring longingly at the lights of the town just within sight, but across the river. 'We will drown if we try to swim across.'
> 
> 'And we cannot go back. The last town is too far away to walk back to in the remaining hours of this night.' the youngest, and some say the cleverest, of the brothers stated, looking around. 'Look, brothers, signs that the bridge has been washed away. Why can we not build a new one to replace the old?'
> 
> So the brothers inspected where the old bridge had indeed been, with stones and pieces of wood and scraps of rope being all that remained. 'And how do you propose we build this bridge, oh brother mine?' the eldest asked, skeptical, but willing to listen, for when the youngest spoke, the two elder had learned to listen.
> 
> With a smile, the youngest drew his wand, much to his elder's confusion. Why would the youngest draw a weapon to build with? For that is all the use the eldest brother understood wands to be: a weapon, such as a sword, used to harm.
> 
> The second brother had a similar question, for he did not understand why the youngest insisted on using such a weak tool that could not be used to bring back what was once lost. Wood was such an unreliable medium and he had put his wand away many moons ago when it had failed to grant his one wish among wishes.
> 
> But the youngest brother persisted. He knew that wands were meant for construction just as well as they were meant for destruction. That they could only grant wishes so long as the wielder could put in the energy and work to grant them. But there were laws, rules that even magic had to follow, and that was what the youngest knew for a fact.
> 
> Holding out his wand, the youngest drew from the earth stones and vines that he fashioned into a new bridge, long and tall enough to span the raging river safely, without threat of being washed away in the night. He showed his elder brothers what could be done with only a bit of patience and ingenuity.
> 
> 'Is it safe?' the second brother asked, remaining behind on the path while his elder headstrong and younger clever brothers stepped onto the bridge. The bridge, in the second brother's opinion, held the same air of death wrapped in the stones as flowed in the river below.
> 
> 'It is quite safe.' The youngest said, quite sure of his work.
> 
> 'Are you afraid to find out for yourself? Do you fear death?' The eldest mocked, already at the apex of the bridge.
> 
> 'Yes, _do_ you fear Death?' came a third voice, startling the three brothers. Standing behind the eldest brother was a cloaked being, its face covered by its large hood. Raising one decrepit hand, the being touched the side of the bridge, withering the vines and crumbling the stones. 'Clever boys, you seem to have tricked me, making a bridge over a river that I myself made run rapid, and, by all rights, you owe me your souls. Now,' the being watched the three brothers' expressions with amusement, 'I am a fair being- for who is more fair than Death?- so I will reward you instead. I will grant each of you one boon each.'
> 
> The brothers were unsure, for who was this man to say that he was Death itself, killing all those that meant to cross the river? But, what were they to complain that this being was to give them each a boon?
> 
> Stepping close, the eldest agreed to Death's boon first. Thinking himself clever, he asked for a wand, able to defeat all his enemies. For he intended to kill this 'death' for daring to cross his path and saying that it could have killed him and his brothers at any time.
> 
> Death, unaware of the eldest brother's plans, agreed and plucked a branch from an elder tree growing on the riverbank, shriveled and warped by the harsh environment surrounding it. With a twist of his hand, he cored the branch with a thestral's tail hair, turning it into the most powerful wand before or since.
> 
> Immediately upon receiving the wand, the eldest brother turned the wand on Death, aiming to kill it. Of course, this did not work, for you cannot kill Death. 'Foolish child,' Death said, grasping ahold of the eldest brother's very soul in it's icy grip, 'this is your last warning. Do not throw away my boon so foolishly. Heed this, headstrong one, keep grasp your wand, for without it, your soul will be mine soon enough.' And from that day, the eldest brother feared Death.
> 
> Next, Death turned to the youngest brother, waiting for his request. The youngest shook his head, saying that he was only the lowly youngest child, that he needed no boon, and to ask the middle brother for his boon instead.
> 
> The middle brother upon feeling Death's gaze, looked up from where he still stood on the shore. 'Come, child, you have no reason to fear me this day.' Death crooked his finger, summoning the brother to finally step upon the bridge to join his brothers in the center.
> 
> 'Death' the middle brother nodded, not fearing Death as his elder did, but acknowledging his power instead. 'You are to grant us any boon we wish?' At Death's nod, the middle brother dared to stare into Death's deeply hooded face. 'If you truly are Death, return to me my lover.'
> 
> Kneeling, Death plucked a stone from the bridge, smoothing its edges between his fingers. 'You ask for the impossible, child, for there is no way to return a soul to life once it has gone beyond the veil. I cannot return your lover to flesh and bone, for even I cannot break god's laws.' Giving the stone to the middle brother, Death held up one hand. 'What can be done, however, is to give a soul a link to the living world. Turn'd thrice, the soul will be retrieved from beyond the veil. But be warned, your lover will be like a ghost: intangible and only the barest reflection of who they were in life.'
> 
> The middle brother took the stone with cold eyes, clutching the stone close to his breast. False promises or not, it was a hope that was given spark with Death's words that day.
> 
> Again, Death turned to the youngest brother. 'Your brothers have chosen their boons, one to bring death in my image, and the other to seek to steal mine own property in a soul already under my care. What is your wish, oh silent one, oh watchful one? Do you seek to hurt me as well? You should know by your brothers' example that you cannot.'
> 
> 'I do know,' the youngest nodded, deep in thought, for he knew that surely these gifts had a price that his brothers would pay thricefold. What the youngest wanted, honestly, was to be left alone, to be left in peace so that he may die at the proper time, preferably surrounded by his loved ones. But if he truly had to take up this game as his two foolish elder brothers had just done, he would play this smartly. 'I wish…' he spoke slowly, thinking of the least he could ask for, Death or not. 'For a piece of your cloak, so that I may prove to myself that it was not a dream, meeting Death this night, and surviving.'
> 
> This, Death found quite amusing. For a piece of his cloak was indeed the most valuable object that any of the three brothers could ask for, yet the most unassuming, much like the youngest brother. And so, Death raised his arm and cut off a piece of his trailing sleeve, handing it over. This piece of cloak, the youngest brother would soon find, retained a piece of Death's powers woven into its very threads. This cloak, you see, could hide anything that it was draped over from anyone, including Death itself.
> 
> Death, having granted the three brothers each a boon, allowed them to pass in peace. He would not hunt the three brothers, no, for he knew that each would pay for their folly at defying Death sooner or later.
> 
> Coming to the village, the three brothers decided to separate. For the eldest, with the power of the wand, was greedy to take revenge on all that had mocked him. And the middle, thinking only of his lost love, traveled back home. The youngest, with the piece of Death's cloak tucked into the bottom of his pack, was the only one to continue on the journey that the three had partaken.
> 
> Soon enough, the Eldest brother's fate was to be revealed. For indeed, he was able to punish and eventually kill his enemy, but his downfall was that very night. Celebrating in the town pub, the eldest boasted that his wand was the most powerful wand in existence and a man even greedier than the eldest brother happened to hear. That night, while the eldest brother slept off his mead, the greedy man slit the eldest brother's neck, killing him, and slipped off into the night with his prize. And thus, the eldest brother paid Death's price.
> 
> The second brother lasted longer than the first, for indeed he was happy returning his lover to his side. But soon enough, he realized that while his lover's soul had returned, his lover's spirit had not. The lover was listless, disinterested in watching a life continue while they stagnated in a half-life. Eventually, the second brother took his life, for if he could not have his lover while alive, they could be together in death. And thus, Death was paid.
> 
> Years came and went and Death searched for the youngest brother, for it was time for him to pay the price for his own boon. But the youngest was smart, he had learned what the cloak could do, and thus lived a full life. Eventually, the youngest brother was tired of living and gave his cloak to his son, with the instruction to take care of the precious object.
> 
> Turning, the youngest brother stood as tall as he could in his old, bent frame, and held his arms out, greeting Death like an old friend.”

Harry fell silent, rubbing Teddy's back. The child had long fallen asleep and the glass of water was half-gone, he started thinking of his words, not bothering to look up.

“Well...” Molly broke the silence, looking down at her knitting needles, unaware of exactly when she had stopped her knitting to listen closer to Harry's take on The Tale of the Three Brothers. “...That was an interesting take on the story. Very… different, from Beedle's version.”

Nodding absently, Harry opened his mouth, something beyond him urging the tale to be continued.

> “As the youngest had greeted Death like an old friend and not one to be feared and respected, Death was unhappy. He had sent years trying to find the child after reaping his two elder brothers' souls, and he wanted his game to continue.
> 
> 'Foolish child,' Death greeted the youngest, 'did you think that this was the end? No, it is not, for I gave you three very powerful objects, did you think one death each was fair payment, even with receiving your souls no matter what? No, you will pay me until I see fit that you have paid fair price, and possibly learn what it is to treat me with proper respect. And, seeing as your life is tied to your brothers, you will continue to pay, just as your brothers will. You will each live, die, and live again until you each learn your lessons in greed. Now, hurry, your brothers already live again.' With that, Death released the youngest brother's soul back into life.
> 
> Through life and life again, the three brothers, often separate, were oft reunited at the threads of fate twined together. But it was always the same: the eldest died in greed, the middle of lost love and the youngest greeting Death as the friend he had become. But Death grew frustrated, no matter the life, the three would always die I the same way. Whether coming from riches or fame, destitution or disgrace, the end was always the same.
> 
> In this lifetime, Death placed the brothers in lifelines that contained little love, if only to teach how precious it was. The eldest brother, born many, many years before the others, was born under the influence of a love potion. Now, with a love potion, you would think that love would be in the eldest brother's soul, but that was not to be so, for he was born without any. Before he was even born, he was abandoned by his father. His mother died to give him life and he was given to a poor, overfull orphanage to be taken care of.
> 
> As orphanages are wont to do, there was no love for the eldest brother growing up. He was taken care of, yes, but only in the most basic of ways. At a young age, he, like his younger brothers would, learned how to take care of himself. He, unlike the younger two, never once felt the touch of love, even in the smallest amount.
> 
> Growing up, the Eldest brother, as he was wont to do, turned to war, and thus the newest age began.
> 
> Years later, the second eldest was born. Unlike the eldest, his parents both lived and, at one point, possibly even loved each other. The middle brother grew up in a home, yes, but a broken one. Abused from a young age, with only his mother as his champion, he turned to the first friendly face he encountered and loved her with everything in his being, trying, and ultimately failing, to hold her close as the most precious thing in the world.
> 
> But fate twisted and he was seduced by his elder brother's words, causing, like every lifetime before, the death of his most precious loved one.
> 
> The youngest… was born in the shadow of the middle brother's love's death. For they both knew of her love, the middle as the most precious thing in his life, the youngest, as his precious mother. He was born in love, lived in love for a short while. But it was not to last. The youngest was raised a slave, to serve his masters' very whims, to take every punishment without comment, deserved or not. Love was not in his childhood, but only in bright sparks that made it so much more precious to him. For he remembered what love felt like, as limited it was and buried under his master's ministrations.
> 
> In time, fate twisted and the three brothers reunited, but not in a happy unity, for it was a war that the eldest brother created. The Middle brother died first, for while he did not die by his own hand, he died for the shadow of his love, who had followed him with green eyes since her death.
> 
> Then it was the youngest brother, who opened his arms and greeted Death like an old friend. Death, knowing that this was not the correct pattern, and mad that the eldest had tried to, once again, cheat Death of his payment, sent the youngest back into is body. The youngest was charged with taking Death's payment in his stead from the eldest brother. Reluctantly, the youngest did as he was bade, as he had been taught his entire life, and took his eldest brother's life and gave it to Death...”

Harry trailed off, his mind going back to that day, only mere months before, when Death had indeed received his payment, and then some. He still didn't understand exactly why he did not die as well. Wouldn't it have been better that way?

“Harry… Dear...” Molly had a faint green tinge to her cheeks and tears in her lashes. “Do you know the names of the three brothers… if I could be so bold to ask, that is.” It was the first time that Harry had willingly brought up the war himself, as far as she could tell.

“Ignotus, Cadmus and Antioch Peverell.”

“And… this lifetime?”

“Tom, Severus and… Harry.” Harry finally stopped rubbing Teddy's back and looked away, his voice fading to a faint whisper.

“Ah.” Molly nodded, as if Harry was making perfect sense. “Would you like me to tuck Teddy away for you? I moved a crib to Ginny's room and you can use her bed tonight. I'm sure she wouldn't mind terribly if you did, since she's obviously not using it. It's closer to the main floor than Ronald's room and a little more private.” Plus, it was closer to her and Arthur's room, so that she could more easily peer in on him before she went to bed. Not that she would be sleeping any time soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my personal archives the other day. Either I had intended to write more or... I don't really know. I think it's at a really good stopping point and I can't remember if there was more to be said. Please forgive me if there's any grammatical/spelling errors or it seems like a weird read... I haven't really edited it.


End file.
